


espresso covered kisses

by professortennant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Fluff, Philinda 24 Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melinda May is about to call it quits on this whole Christmas thing when she stumbles into Phil Coulson's coffeeshop...</p>
            </blockquote>





	espresso covered kisses

Melinda May was ready to call it quits. It was Christmas Eve and she had been to about eleven different shops in the vain hope that someone, someone, would still have the perfect gift for her mother. She’d hoped that the hustle and bustle and spirit of the holidays would give her inspiration, but so far all Melinda had come up with was a headache, aching feet, a runny nose, and more irritation than she knew what to do with.

Christmas, she decided, was vastly overrated. The lights were too twinkly, the people too cheery, and the music too repetitive. Just what the hell was figgy pudding anyway?

On top of all the forced commercial cheer, she now only had a dwindling amount of time to find something to give to her mother tomorrow morning that wouldn’t be met with a scathing remark. 

With hope at ever finding a present dwindling and the snow really starting to pick up, she’d have to cut her losses and at least improve the headache and aching feet with a stop into the coffeeshop just up the road, The Owl & Cat Coffeehouse.

It certainly looked drab from the outside--no festive lights, no signs promising ghastly holiday-flavored drinks, and no fake snow on the windows. All in all, she thought this was a fair bet. 

Pulling open the door, however, proved Melinda very, very wrong. A young, cheerful woman manned the cash register. Her long curly hair was pulled back into a bun and a headband with a pair of pointy elf ears rested neatly upon her head. While there were no lights outside the establishment, inside was another story. 

Lights hung from every conceivable surface--ceiling, counter, tables, windowsill, and pastry case. Not just white christmas lights, either. Shining bright red and green and blue lights. Lights flashed and twinkled and changed colors. 

Soft, jazzy Christmas music was playing through the overhead speakers and the pastry case was filled with snowman and Santa Clause sugar cookies.

Melinda was just about to cut her losses, turn on her heel, and head home where she could escape the bloody holiday for more than two minutes, when a man was suddenly at her side.

He was dressed ridiculously--a Santa Clause apron on (which she noticed was smeared with whipped cream, powdered sugar, and espresso powder), a Christmas hat, and he was wearing dark, forest green pants. His eyes were a stunning blue and his smile was easy.

Melinda felt her breath catch and instinctively adjusted her body so it was back inside the shop and not on its way out.

The man was carrying a tray full of empty cups and bowls on his shoulder, but his smile was bright. “Welcome! We’re closing in an hour or so, but please feel free to take a seat. Skye,” he gestured to the girl at the register, “will be more than happy to take care of you.”

Melinda nodded and watched as the man disappeared behind the counter, humming along to the tunes of Silent Night and she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander down his backside. Maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all.

She approached the counter wearily and before she could even order, the woman--Skye--was already talking. “Oh, hon, you look exhausted. Lemme guess, you don’t strike me as a holiday-drink kinda girl. Hm. Tea, then? Or coffee, black?”

Despite everything Melinda had been through that day, the girl’s sympathy and her ability to know exactly what she wanted was strangely comforting. She smiled, “Tea would be lovely, thanks. How did you know?”

Skye shrugged. “Just a gift.”

After paying for her tea, Melinda found herself a quiet spot in the corner on a worn, comfortable looking couch. There was no one else in the shop and Melinda was suddenly very, very grateful for that fact. She just didn’t want to be around another person today.

Except, she thought, as the man brought over a clay teapot and cup, I wouldn’t mind him sticking around.

The man placed the tray down on the coffee table in front of her and gave a little bow. “May I pour you the first cup?”

Melinda laughed and gestured, “Be my guest.”

Wrapping a hand around the pot’s handle, the man spoke, “I’m Phil, by the way, This is my shop. The nuisance at the counter is my daughter. She do the drink guessing trick with you?”

Phil handed her the cup. “Yeah, she did. Pretty impressive to be able to read someone like that.”

He sighed. “It’s impressive when you don’t have to live with it. You know what it’s like not being able to hide a damned thing from that kid?”

Melinda laughed, sipping at the green tea. She gave a startled little gasp, an almost moan, at how damned delicious it was. She felt like she was suddenly transported back to her grandmother’s house, the wafting smells of jasmine and green tea filling the small kitchen.

Phil stiffened, eyes glued to her. “E-everything okay?”

Melinda opened her eyes (when had she closed them?) and sighed. “This might be the best cup of tea I’ve had in a long, long while.”

Phil beamed at her. “Thank you! It’s a blend I made myself. Family secret,” he shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m pretty good at persuading people to give me their secrets.”

She hoped that didn’t--did--sound as flirtatious as she meant it. 

Phil’s eyes darkened ever so slightly and he began clearing away the tray and napkins. “Well, I guess we’ll find out, won’t we. If you leave this shop with the secret, I’ll give you free tea for a year.”

She laughed (she couldn’t remember the last time she laughed as much as she had in the last 30 minutes) and stuck out her hand. “Deal.” Phil took it and she noticed the way her hand fit in his, the way his fingers enveloped her smaller hand, and she sighed. 

Maybe it had been too long since Andrew, if she was focusing on the way someone’s hand felt in hers.

Phil made to take the cleared tray away when something inexplicable came over her, “Do you want to sit with me? I’m not sure I could finish a whole pot of tea by myself. I thought I had only ordered a cup.”

Phil cocked his head to the side. “Only a cup?” His brow furrowed and he turned sharply to look at Skye who was watching the pair of them from behind the counter. She gave a little squeak and ducked down behind the register. 

Shaking his head, Phil turned to face Melinda again. “I’d love to sit with you. I’m just shutting down the shop. Let me take care of a few things and send Skye home and then I’ll join you, okay?”

She nodded and watched as Phil carried the tray back behind the counter, glaring at Skye, who followed behind him dutifully. She heard the clang and clamor of dishes being tossed into a sink and Phil and Skye’s raised voices. 

“--don’t need you helping me to ask women out.”

“C’mon, Dad, she was mooning over you!”

Blustering and scoffing and then Phil was telling Skye to wash the dishes and that he’d see her at home. 

Melinda bit back a smile as she watched Phil wipe down the front counter, face red and his eyes constantly flicking over to Melinda in the corner, innocently sipping her tea as if she hadn’t heard the exchange.

She let herself be a little bolder than normal. Her eyes trailed over his forearms--exposed by the rolled up sleeves. She watched as his back muscles flexed beneath the shirt that stretched across his shoulders as he reached to shut down the espresso machine. She watched his hips sway in time to the music still softly playing over the speakers as he swept and danced behind the counter.

Finally feeling like too much of a voyeur, she rose from the couch and walked to him. “Anything I can do to help?”

Phil smiled at her, waving her off. “I’m almost done, really. I’ll just check on Skye and send her on her way and then I’ll join you.” He hesitated. “That is, if you still want the company?”

“Honestly, I’d love it. It’s been a hell of a day and this is the first shop that hasn’t made me want to tear my hair out.”

Phil grinned, cheeks a tad flushed. He held up a finger. “Glad to hear it. We’ll add that to our new campaign slogan. Just, one second.”

A few minutes later, Skye was being hustled out the door by her father. The young girl raised on her tip toes to give her father a kiss on the cheek and she whispered something that Melinda couldn’t hear, but that made Phil blush and smack her on the butt on her way out the door. 

Skye laughed and waved goodbye to Melinda, “Nice to meet you! Happy holidays!”

She waved back and watched as Phil shut down the lights to the main shop, leaving the area only illuminated by Christmas lights. Phil came to sit next to her, tense and with shaking hands, poured himself a cup of tea and refilled Melinda’s own cup.

“So, you going to tell me that secret family recipe now?”

Phil laughed and leaned back into the couch, crossing one leg over the other, shaking his head. “I thought you said you had skills at this? Pretty blunt approach, don’t you think?”

With a sigh, Melinda also leaned back, “A girl has to try the fast and easy approach first.”

Phil’s eyebrows shot up and Melinda blushed, muttering, “Shut up.”

Chuckling, Phil changed the subject. “So, what brings you into my shop looking so world-weary, Melinda?”

“Last minute Christmas shopping for my mom. She’s probably the most severe woman I know and she judges almost everything I get her. Last year she opened her present, put it right back in the box, and handed it to me and told me to try again. Normally I wouldn’t bother again this year, but,” Melinda took a deep breath. “But she was there for me this last year. I went through a rough divorce and she stood my by side the whole time, even when it got nasty.”

Phil covered her hand with his, rubbing small circles on the inside of her wrist. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know what it’s like to go through a bad break-up. I mean, not a divorce, but still, we were together for years and she decided one day that her career was more important than Skye and I and she left.”

Melinda hummed and suddenly they were talking as if they had been old friends. She told him about staying with her grandmother as a young girl. Told him about witnessing a rebel attack in Bahrain while she was on vacation and how it had changed her. Told him about her fertility problems and how her husband hadn’t wanted to be saddled to someone who couldn’t give him the family he wanted. 

Phil’s grip on her wrist and hand tightened at that particular bit of news, but he stayed quiet, supportive. She told him that she hated Christmas now that she was alone and she just wanted the whole thing to be over. She told him that she didn’t really mean it, deep down. That she missed being with someone at the holidays and that she was scared that she was going to close herself off from he world.

He told her how he had fought tooth and nail to adopt Skye as a single man. Told her that he had been ready to propose to his girlfriend and settle down and really have it all--white picket fence and all--when she left him. Told her that he had to stay strong for Skye. Told her about growing up without a father and how his mother instilled in him a love of baking. Told her that this coffeeshop and Skye was his life. Told her that he made an effort to be as festive as possible to compensate for the loneliness in his heart. 

By the time they were done talking, they had moved closer together on the couch, thighs pressing against one another and their hands entwined. The tea had long since gone cold and Melinda could see snow beginning to gather and build on the windows and ground outside. 

She sighed softly, “I should go before the roads get bad.”

He tightened his grip on her hand before agreeing, standing up and offering her his hand. “You’re right, of course. C’mon, I’ll walk you out.”

She put her coat on, wishing she could think of a smooth way to give him her number. Maybe she could just come back in a few days, drop her business card off, and leave the rest up to him. She felt like she’d known him for years and she was reluctant to break the connection that was developing between them. 

Once they both had their coats on and the tea was cleared away, she took a breath and looped her arm through his, walking towards the front door. “You know, you never did share that tea recipe with me.”

Phil looked at her, mouth twitching up. “I didn’t? Must have slipped my mind...”

She stopped at the door and turned him to face her. She put on her best pleading face (she didn’t often plead and she could feel how out of practice these particular facial muscles were). “Please, Phil? I think my mom would really, really love it. It would mean a lot to her.”

Phil’s mouth dropped open slightly and he let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “Alright, Melinda May. Wait there.”

Turning on his heel, she watched as Phil rummaged behind the counter, pulling out a mason jar full of tea--all dark greens, browns, and greys. He walked back to her, shaking his head, and handed her the jar. “I won’t give you the secret, but I’ll give you the blend. For your mom.”

Melinda couldn’t believe it, taking the jar from him. She was only half-joking, attempting to playfully manipulate him into giving her the secret. 

“You didn’t have to do this, Phil. Really, this is your whole stock.”

He shrugged, shuffling his feet. “I have the recipe. I can make more.”

Looking back, Melinda would blame the twinkling lights, still softly illuminating the room and the gentle curve of his smiles. She would blame the feeling of warmth that had been surging through her starting with the cup of tea and the feel of his leg pressed against hers. She would blame the feeling of rightness and openness between them.

She would blame him for biting his lower lip and gesturing to the plant hanging above them, “Guess Skye thought she’d sneak a little extra yuletide cheer into the shop--mmph.”

Melinda had closed the distance between them, one arm coming up to loop around Phil’s neck. Her lips were pressed to his--dry, warm, chaste. She just wanted to thank him, to find a way to keep this connection that was between them alive, when she realized he wasn’t kissing her back.

She began to pull away when it seemed that he flared to life beneath her. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her in close so that their bodies were pressed together. His lips pressed more insistently against hers and his tongue slipped out to flick against her lips, asking to deepen the kiss. 

She tilted her head and with a sigh opened her mouth to him. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, stroking gently. He tasted like the smoky sweet tea and sugar. Melinda thought it was a taste she could become addicted to.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers, noses nuzzling. “Wow.”

They stayed like that for a moment--pressed close and noses brushing, exchanging quick kisses, before Phil pulled away, looking at her appraisingly. 

“You know this doesn’t mean you’re getting my recipe, still, right?”

Melinda pressed another quick kiss to his mouth. “Not why I kissed you.”

“I know.”

She sighed. “Merry Christmas, Phil.”

“Merry Christmas, Melinda.”


End file.
